So. This is 43. Yep. Forty-effing-three. Those older than me will tell me how young that is. Those younger than me will cheer me on, like I’m some sort of minor disease survivor – and then mentally push the number down to a place where it can’t touch them. It is so far away, right? Right. One of my favorite people called me a few weeks ago, on my birthday, to wish me a happy day. Her words were perfect: “Happy Birthday! I want you to know you’re still relevant.” She is brilliant. And honest. We had a long conversation about this number (she will be turning the same age…